


Fevers are Fake

by dyingpoet



Series: Javid one shots [1]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Jack is hella dramatic and Davey is a good bf, M/M, Race shows up for some reason he sort of just popped in while I was writing, Sick Character, Sick Fic, javid - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 07:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13875981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingpoet/pseuds/dyingpoet
Summary: Jack gets the flu and Davey has to deal with his wildly unpredictable sick boyfriend





	Fevers are Fake

**Author's Note:**

> Felt like writing some javid to get a break from the massive amount of sprace I've been writing lately, hopefully this came out as fluffy as I intended!

“Jack, you’re burning up.”

“No I’m not.”

Davey sighed as Jack tried to climb back out of their bed for the second time that morning. He’d been up since 5am shaking and sweating, and consequently Davey had been up since 5am and about thirty seconds trying to convince Jack that it wasn’t normal to have a 103 degree fever.

It wasn’t going well.

Davey lightly pushed at Jack’s chest and got him back down, significantly easier than it would have been if Jack was in fact healthy. 

“I’m fine Davey,” Jack said, “I gotta be at work in an hour anyway.”

A fit of violent coughing followed his statement and Davey rolled his eyes. “I’m calling you in, you’re just going to get everyone else sick.” Not to mention the fact that he would probably end up passing down and Davey was actually starting to get really worried about him. 

Jack rolled his eyes and tried to sit up again. Davey was forced to take some drastic measures.

“And if you try and go I’ll call Spot and make him watch you instead of me.”

A groan sounded as Jack shoved his head into his pillow. “No fair.”

That sounded like an admission of defeat if Davey ever heard one; Spot was famous for a lack of empathy for pretty much everyone except Race, and Jack wouldn’t get much besides a glare and a bottle of NyQuil if Spot was in charge.

And he knew it, and Davey didn’t care.

“I’m gonna go get you some flu medicine from the store, and like, soup and some other stuff.”

Stubborn silence.

“Do you want anything specific?” Davey asked. He knew Jack was just being crabby because he hated being sick, due to the fact that he lived by the principle that his body was indestructible, and didn’t take his silence to heart.

Jack didn’t say anything else and Davey shrugged on his jacket. “Suit yourself, I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

Halfway to their bedroom door Davey heard a weak, “Can you get 7 up?”

Davey smiled and shut off the bedroom light. “Sure, text me if you think of anything else.”

“Okay… thanks.”

* * *

 

Davey’s shopping cart was way fuller than he’d expected it would be. 

Since he’d gotten to the grocery store Jack had sent him around ten texts asking for various items; he had oddly specific tastes when he got sick. 

Those items included, but were not limited to: Pepto Bismol, 7 up, sparkling water, like 2 loaves of bread, and very specifically, Maximum Strength Mucinex.

The guy was putting a major dent in what little savings he had.

He rolled his eyes as he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

 

_ Jack Kelly: last one i swear but vicks vaporub??? _

 

_ Davey Jacobs: fine princess _

 

_ Jack Kelly: :) _

 

He did get the Vaporub and tossed it in his cart, getting Jack to admit he was sick was only half the battle; the man was an absolute drama queen once he gave in. And Davey would have to watch him the whole day, maybe part of tomorrow if it didn’t pass. He hoped he’d be able to put on Netflix and get Jack to pass out for most of the day, thinking rather optimistically if Jack’s past medical history was anything to go by.

Finally rolling up to the register, the clerk smiled a little bit when he started putting up all the stuff he’d picked up. It looked like he was shopping for a hospital full of five year olds. 

She began ringing it up while Davey dug into his pocket for his wallet.

“Somebody sick?” she asked as she rang up the cough medicine and then the other cough medicine that Jack claimed helped him sleep.

Davey pulled some cash out of his wallet and set it down. “Sick and very picky, yes.”

“Ha, I’ve been there,” she said, “I usually have to watch my little brother when he gets sick, a drama queen if I’ve ever seen one.”

Davey laughed and waited as she rang the rest up, let out a groan at the total, thanked the cashier and carried his bags out to his car.

It was shaping up to be a rather long day.

* * *

 

“Jack?”

Davey shut the door behind him and set down the bags on the counter. At the groan in response he poured a glass of 7 up and brought the cough medicine with him and walked into their room.

Jack was buried under their comforter, hair sticking out at all angles as a rerun of  _ Friends _ played on their TV. “Davey?”

“Yep,” Davey said as he went to sit on the bed next to Jack, “How are you feeling?”

A groan as Jack turned over to face Davey. “Bad.”

He sipped a bit at the glass of 7 up before setting it down on the bedside table. “Did you get the-”

Davey passed him the little cup of cough medicine and Jack managed a weak smile. “Thanks.”

“No problem, do you want anything else right now?” Davey asked. He was very aware of the fact that he had a tendency to ‘mother’ whenever any of the guys got sick or hurt, and everyone made a point to tease him about it now and then. He just chalked it up to caring and being the only responsible and knowledgeable one in the group when it came to that kind of stuff.

Jack made a face when he swallowed the cough syrup and nodded his head a little. “Would you mind,” he looked a little embarrassed when he started, not a common sight, “That vaporub stuff? It’s hard to breathe.”

Davey nodded. “Sure, I’ll go get it.”

He heard Jack mumble something in thanks and he grabbed the vaporub and the bottle of 7 up for good measure. Might as well have it near him, for keeping fluids up and whatnot. 

“Okay you gotta take off your shirt if you want me to put it on,” Davey said as he unscrewed the cap. Part of him wanted to help Jack but he’d just embarrass him more if he did, despite being dramatic he still liked to have some level of independence.

After a minute or so of struggling, Jack managed to get his shirt and the blanket off, and laid back, breathing rather heavily. 

“You can go to sleep if you want Jack,” Davey said while he started rubbing the, well rub, onto Jack’s chest. Instantly he felt him relax and let out a contented sigh, getting a smile out of Davey as well. 

He always did this for Les when he got sick and knew well enough that it could knock him out, nine times out of ten Les was out within a minute and breathing better after that. The stuff was a miracle really. 

Jack mumbled something and drifted off after a few minutes. Davey put the rub on the bedside table next to the glass of soda and felt Jack’s head. He still felt awfully hot, and he wouldn’t start to feel better at all until the fever broke.

So, he went and got a washcloth and soaked in in cold water for a few minutes before bringing it back into their room. Jack squirmed in his sleep a bit when Davey placed it on his forehead, but stilled after a few minutes and kept sleeping.

At this point Davey’s been around Jack enough that he knew he’d probably get sick himself, so he decided he might as well stay with him, crawling onto the other side of the bed so he could rest his back against the headboard. 

A new episode of  _ Friends _ started and Davey sat back and got invested in the episode, it was going to be at least three or four episodes until Jack woke back up anyway.

* * *

 

It was five actually, and Davey almost got through a season finale when Jack started stirring.

“Dave?” he mumbled, turning over onto his side, “Wha’ time is it?”

Checking his phone, Davey answered, “‘Bout noon, feeling any better?” There was a chance his fever had gone down, the last time he actually checked it was half a degree lower; not much but he’d rather slow and steady than nothing.

“A little, not as nauseous I guess,” Jack said. He shifted a bit so that his head was propped up on a pillow, “Can you pass me that glass?”

Davey nodded and handed it over. Jack actually got a decent enough gulp down before handing it back, the fact that he was keeping it down was a really good sign. 

“When do you think I’ll be better?” Jack asked, rolling over so that he was facing Davey. 

Idly, Davey brushed his fingers through Jack’s hair and shrugged. “I’d say by tomorrow, maybe the next day, the type of flu that’s been going around passes pretty fast.”

Jack nodded and leaned into Davey’s touch. “‘Kay, thanks for staying Davey.”

“No problem Jackie.”

He kept carding his fingers through Jack’s sweaty hair until he saw Jack start to close his eyes again, stopping after he was sure he was asleep and got up. He figured the next time Jack woke up he might be able to get some food down, he could make himself lunch and get some toast ready for when Jack got up, hot food never seemed good when you were sick anyway.

Carefully, he padded out of the room and into the kitchen. The fridge was pretty much bare bones, they were really shit at remembering to buy food, and he settled on making eggs for now. 

Monica was yelling at Joey over something in the bedroom and he cracked the eggs for his omelette. He thought about making one for Jack but he doubted he’d be able to eat that much, and eggs were kind of risky anyway. 

Clicking on the stove, he poured his eggs into the pan and hummed a little once they started sizzling. The apartment was oddly silent without Jack’s voice filling it, and he couldn’t really decide if it was good silent or bad silent.

Whatever it was though, a knock at the door broke it, followed by another and another increasing in volume before Davey lowered the temperature on the stove and went to answer it.

“Hey Davey!” Race said cheerfully once he got the door open, already inside before Davey could tell him it wasn’t really a good time. “Where’s Jack?”

He started for the bedroom and Davey pulled him back by the wrist. “He’s got the flu, he’s passed out in there right now.”

Race raised his eyebrows. “Oh shit, that sucks, I was gonna see if me and Spot could come over later but I guess not.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want you guys to get sick too, ‘specially Spot, he’d murder Jack once he got better,” Davey said. He went over to the stove and got out a spatula to flip his omelette.

Race followed and leaned against the fridge while he messed with the eggs. “True, and Spot’s a bitch when he gets sick, I don’t want to deal with that shit.”

“A loving relationship you two have.”

“Oh you know what I mean,” Race said, “And I’m no better, if both of us got sick the apartment would probably explode.”

Davey flipped his omelette. “True, and you can chill on the couch for a while if you want, he’ll be out for a while and he hasn’t gotten up so the living room is like, sterile I think.”

Race shrugged. “I probably will, Spot’s at work and I don’t really have anything to do. Do you need me to do anything for him?”

Turning the pan on its side, David slid the omelette onto his plate. “I don’t think so, you can make toast when he wakes up if you want, but I don’t really know when that’ll be.” He went to sit on their couch and was closely followed by Race. “If you wanna shut his door we can watch something?”

“Hell yeah,” Race said, moving to shut Jack’s door, “Get some fuckin’  _ Brooklyn Nine-nine  _ up in here.”

“You’re weirdly obsessed with that show,” Davey said as he turned it on nonetheless.

“Spot got me into it, and it’s really good!”

Davey snorted and settled back to eat his omelette. Again, he figured it’d be another three or four episodes before Jack got up again, and he’d check his temperature once he finished eating.

Poor guy.

* * *

 

It was three episodes this time and Jack actually got up and let himself out of the room.

“Race?”

He sort of stumbled over to the couch and Davey was up in second while Race went and got the toast he’d made a few minutes earlier. “Jack you should lay back down,” Davey said as he reached to feel Jack’s head, “You feel cool _ er _ but you still probably have a fever.”

Jack sat down clumsily and accepted the plate of toast that Race handed over. “I woke up and was starving, I feel a little better too.”

He nibbled on the crust of the toast and swallowed with little to no difficulty. Davey went to sit next to him anyway though, he thought he could see him shivering a bit and grabbed the blanket that Race had been using earlier.

“Probably my cue to leave,” Race said, “Hope you feel better soon Jackie.”

“Thanks Racer,” Jack said as he forced down another bite. 

Race got his coat and nodded at Davey, who shot him a grateful look in return. 

The door closed and Jack set his plate down, curling into Davey’s side and yawning.”’M so tired.”

Davey shifted so that he was stretched out a bit more, he was awfully tired too and could feel his brain start to shut down. “Go to sleep, we can move back to bed later, okay?”

He felt Jack nod against his side and grip the blanket tighter around himself. Within a minute he was asleep and Davey was on the verge. He shut off the TV as he finally gave in and let his head rest on the top of Jack’s, sleep taking over within seconds.

* * *

 

It was dark and Davey’s head was killing him. The hand that was shaking his shoulder wouldn’t quit though, and he forced his eyes open to see Jack sitting up over him.

“Hey sleepyhead, you’re sick,” he sang, holding up a thermometer to show a 100 degree temperature. “I didn’t even know it was possible to get sick that fast.”

Davey groaned loudly and curled into the blanket Jack had placed over him. “It’s ‘cause I was in the bed with you for so long, and you’re still sick too.”

“Yep but not  _ as _ sick, I think my fever broke, it’s been like six hours since we fell asleep.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, “And you’re staying here, I owe you since you took care of me.” 

There was really no use protesting, Davey could already feel himself drifting back to sleep as Jack got up. “Thanks.”

Jack went into the kitchen and reappeared with a glass of 7 up. “No problem, and you can sip on this whenever you feel like it.”

He settled down on the floor in front of the couch and flicked the TV back on, close enough that Davey felt safe, sick as hell, but safe.

Sleep took over at some vague point, the whole time thing got a little hazy with the fever, but all he knew was that Jack was definitely still sitting in front of him, and that was all he needed really. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this!! Like/comment if you did and feel free to leave any prompts you might have (they hardcore motivate me and I am Lacking in Motivation constantly)


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